Fatal Flaw
by Jadeblueafterglow17
Summary: There is always someone watching. A very dark graphic tale. Rated T for Graphic Material and Sexual Content - One Shot PWP


**Author:** Jadeblueafterglow17

**Title:** Fatal Flaw Summary: Very dark...Very Graphic. Very ER...and all up to you if there's more. Rated: Mature.

**Disclaimers:** Warner Brothers owns them and they suck! Get a TV deal and out it back on the air!

**Chapter 1: Inside Out**

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In a single moment our lives have changed. He slides in and out of my life like a thief in the night. Dark, guarded, and strong he shoulders the weight of the world as he battles each day.

It had been more than six months since I moved in across the hall from him. In that time I have learned he spends far too much time alone. He goes in the tiny apartment alone, he comes out alone. Somedays he goes for a run, some nights he comes home, stained in blood, his face dark and angst-filled, his eyes swollen from tears.

He eats entirely too much take-out. I told him as much last week, when I promised to make him dinner. The man is thin. Not too thin, an adonis, with natural handsome looks, and a lean muscular physique that on laundry days he is forced to show. So many of his shirts and underwear have gone missing he's taken to doing his laundry at 3am, when he thinks no one is watching. He pads down the hall in his boxers and socks, which leave little to the imagination. He's so shy, he would never do that if he knew someone was watching.

He should know by now, someone is always watching.

I've been in his apartment, I lounge in his underwear. I slip between his sheets and can almost feel his touch on my body. His pictures adorn my walls, his smiles, his tears, his sleeping frame, his naked flesh. I tingle with excitement just thinking about it.

I told him he's delicious really. I didn't say it out loud, but he must know that I love him. I cook for him once a week. I love watching him eat. He's ravenous and it pleases me to see him smile, laugh...grin.

But it wasn't enough.

Yesterday, I reached the point of no return.

Yesterday, I peered through my perch, a notch in the wall behind the plant and I saw him. He'd come from a run again. As he kneeled down, to tie his shoes, I couldn't help but stare at the muscles that so well defined his legs. His gray t-shirt stained with sweat down the small of his back as he stood to retrieve the single brass key behind his light fixture.

He snaked an irresistible tongue over dry lips as he checked to make sure no one had seen his hiding place as he quickly opened the door and returned the key to its place. Slowly he disappeared into his apartment.

I imagined the cold frost of his air conditioner making goose flesh rise on his peaked skin, sweat running in rivulets down his cheek, caressing his long slender neck and running in a desperate drop onto his strong broad chest heading for parts even more desirable.

He would be off today, but he'd need to shower. It was now or never. I pulled my jet black hair across my shoulders and gathered my carefully prepared package. Taking a longing look back at my own belongings, I bid them goodbye as I closed the door and slowly walked to his door.

Imagining his state of undress, I tried to calm myself but the urge to see him, be near him, touch him, -taste him was too strong.

Before I knew it, my hand was raised and three sharp raps had sounded upon his door.

The door opened and a rush of cool air came towards me forcing a shiver through my linen skirt. There he stood, that soaked grey t-shirt half on, half off his body. My eyes caught sight of the minute drops of perspiration dotting his pectoral muscles, and the slick with sweat abs he so deftly tries to hide. I smile as I realize he has said something to me. He notices my bundle and I notice his eyes staring eagerly at my weekly gift to him. As always, I offer to set it up for him. He tried to be a gentleman and refuse but as I waft the contents under his nose, even the lure of a warm shower cannot deter him. The shirt is pulled back on his now chilled body as he seats himself. While I uncover the bowl of warm soup, he drinks eagerly at the iced tea I made for him. He makes small talk as he often does, his deep voice mesmerizing and friendly, and I wonder how he ever gets by alone. How could anyone resist him. His hair is slightly damp from his run, but is still full, thick, and brown as it frames his slim face. His round chocolate eyes -bedroom eyes, crave attention, need - want - love. Thin lips form a tight line slowly desperate to be nibbled on.

I stare at him, his eyes are flickering as he tries to consume the soup quickly. His lips suddenly part as he stares straight forward and I fantasize about tasting the sweet sugar of his mouth on mine.

Instantly I see the struggle on his face, as a cold sweat comes over him, and I see the color of his pallor change.

"Are you alright?" I ask. But I already know the answer. He stares at me and in his eyes I see a desperate need. A need he can no longer voice. He rises to his feet and attempted to make the journey...a journey to nowhere. I watch as he stumbles past his end table and tries to apologize for his quick exit but it s all for not. I hear a moan come from him and I long to have him make these sounds as I writhe beneath him.

He falls.

His hands and knees brace him, as he whispers that he needs help, and falls onto his back. I slowly walk to his side in moments as his terrified eyes find mine. I raise the shiny object into his line of sight as his breathing quickens.

"Shhhhhh..." I stroke his hair as I see his consciousness start to fade. I press my mouth to his and bite his juicy lips, and feeling the urgent need flow through me. He tries desperately to pull away but lacks the strength as his arms will not cooperate and a lone tear falls from the corner of his eye. I lick the delicious tear away and bite and suck at the salty skin on his neck. The thick cords of his Adams apple bobbed back and forth beneath my tongue.

I want to take my time, savor every moment, every inch of his body, but I have so little time. I snake my hand across his chest feeling the taut muscles and cannot stop the urgent need to move further south and caress him through his jogging shorts. A smile came to my lips, even at the brink of death, the male body responds to stimulation.

I rub my hand all over his body and I cannot resist arousal as I thrust my hands inside and gasped with pleasure at the feel of his warm hard member.

In one slashing motion I sliced away the flimsy material and ripped the shorts from his body. In my haste the shiny metal left a thin line of blood across his pelvis trailing into his abdomen. My thirsty tongue could not resist the urge to trace the line and taste his flesh and blood. I felt a shiver flow through me. I quickly sliced and ripped away the remains of his shirt from his body and was enamored by its beauty. His quick panting only enhanced my desire as I rubbed at him, stroking softly thumbing my finger over the tip of his throbbing arousal.

I stared at the shiny metal.

He said it was a scalpel...one he used in surgery as an intern. It was capable of great butchery and great beauty. As I stared at him, I had to wonder if John Carter looked more beautiful on the inside or the outside.

I stroked him roughly and felt him throb in my hands as I plunged the beveled blade into his abdomen.

He doesn't scream, he can't, but the look of agony on his face arouses me, and the warm blood pools around my hands.

I can't wait to find out.

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Can You? One Shot For Now...So You know what to do.


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